A New York Haunting: Pt. 12

Author's note:

Due to the mystery/suspense plot, the individual parts of this tale are unlikely to make sense as stand-alone reads. Please see note at the beginning of Part 1 for more information.

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Chapter 48. AN ANATOMY LESSON

Anders roved about the shadowed room, endeavoring to return order to the turmoil in his mind. Act one had been incomparable --- the vision of naked Ondine writhing in pleasure under his touch had exceeded all his dreams! So rousing had it been, his pretense of scientific detachment had momentarily disintegrated. And as for her minetting him --- even if it had been undertaken without amorous sentiment on her part, she had thrown herself into the experiment with enthusiasm. Who was he to object to an unreserved cock-sucking? Especially when performed by the girl he loved, and culminated by her guileless swallowing of his seed?

Pausing at one of the tall windows, he found the edges the closed drapes and stepped into the space between them and the window. It was chilly next to the glass, and the cold air on his bare skin helped subdue his overstimulated thoughts. With the heavy velvet blocking the dim light of the room behind him, his eyes adjusted to the night scene outside the north-facing window. In the moonlight, he could make out the mansion across the street as well as snow-covered roofs, sidewalks, and trees in both directions. Rare lights glowed in far-scattered windows.

Despite his attempts to embrace a cavalier attitude about this night, it did not fully solace his heart. Yes, the girl he loved had 'smoked his cigar'. Even if she didn't return his feelings, the interlude had been exquisite. That was what he should appreciate instead of brooding over what had been missing. If only he were more like Fulton about these matters!

A shiver prompted him to step away from the window. Glancing towards the bed, he observed Ondine yet motionless under the covers as one in a stupor. The chamber itself had grown cooler --- the fire had burned low. He crossed to the fireplace and set aside the screen --- only to wryly contemplate the wisdom of squatting bare-balled before the flames. Retrieving his drawers from the chair, he pulled them on before proceeding to rebuild the fire.

At length, the new logs caught flame, and he rose to sit on the edge of the nearby armchair. Lost in thought, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, absorbing the waves of warmth and idly prodding the crackling fire with a poker. Intermittently his tongue ran over his lips, and he inhaled deeply to savor the faint, lingering fragrance of the girl's rare faery philtre.

"That was a most remarkable improvisation, Mr. Røkke."

Anders started, his head twisting over his shoulder. Above the tall back of the chair, he beheld Ondine's head and shoulders. So quietly had she risen, he had not heard her. She had redonned her nightgown, he noted wistfully.

"I just stacked the logs with space between them to allow sufficient airflow," he joked.

Her laugh was replaced by a pensive look. "I can't imagine Peter ever doing something like that."

He felt a surge of rivalrous pride. It was my pleasure.

There was a pause, then she said, "I hadn't realized your hair was so light-colored."

"Yes --- my hair oil makes it look darker. I didn't put any in this evening."

"Your scalp laceration and arm are healing wonderfully."

Her hand reached over the chairback towards his head --- Anders almost strained towards it with the longing to feel her tender touch. But her fingers halted in their trajectory and withdrew. She moved around the chair and took up a position a few feet away in front of the fireplace where she gazed into the flames.

Why the nightgown again? Was it simple shyness or had she decided the experiment was over --- now that she had spent? Glumly, he pondered that possibility. Of course, he understood the profound implications for Ondine if she sacrificed her virginity. If she had changed her mind about proceeding, he would never press her to reverse that decision. Nonetheless, his heart twisted at the prospect of her being done with him --- of being on the brink of intercourse with her (even if his amorous feelings were unrequited) --- only to have the opportunity whisked away.

Then his worry was forgotten at the sight before him. Illuminated by the fire beside her, the filmy white gown was rendered almost transparent. Standing at an angle to the shifting light, her body underneath was revealed in a captivating side silhouette --- the lissome lines of her limbs and slender waist punctuated oh so provocatively by the ebullient roundness of her breasts and bottom.

She turned towards him, and his fascinated eyes fixed upon the moving outline under the cloth --- now he had a front view of the sinuous lines from her waist to her hips. He could not stop staring at the juncture of her thighs --- the magical gap between them bridged by the slightly curved horizontal line he knew was her cunny.

"Is that something they teach you in medical school?"

Hastily collecting his distracted thoughts, Anders attempted to recall what they had been discussing. "Suturing a laceration?"

She shook her head. "What you did to me."

He laughed. "Hardly." Rising from the chair, he returned the poker to its stand and set the screen before the snapping blaze. "Watch out for your nightgown, Mrs. Van der Veen."

They stood on either end of the hearth, both staring into the flames --- his elbow braced on the mantel, her fingers fidgeting in the folds of her gown. The clock between them softly ticked.

"Mr. Røkke, what ... umm ... what was it you did do to me?"

His eyes traced over her firelit profile. "Perhaps it would be more instructive if I showed you rather than told you."

Her gaze lifted to him, flicking over his unclad torso and partially fastened drawers. "What are you proposing, sir?"

"Have you a hand mirror?"

After an extended pause marked by the rising color in her cheeks, she nodded. Crossing the room to the dressing table, she retrieved an etched, silver-backed mirror.

"Come here," Anders urged, sitting in the armchair and beckoning her with open arms. Ondine stifled a giggle as she seated herself facing outwards upon his lap, her back towards him and her legs upon his. His hopes were refurbished by her acquiescence --- surely, she would not cooperate so if she intended to banish him to the cold night.

At first, she sat stiffly, but once her weight was secure on his muscular thighs, she relaxed. Under his encouraging fingers upon her upper arms, she leaned back against his bare chest with her thighs pressed together --- sitting atop his large body as if he were a chair.

Ah, how wonderful her warm nimble form was against him! Her buttocks nestled against his groin and her head was next to his --- her unfettered tresses brushing against his jaw and neck. He turned his head to breathe the scent of her hair. Ondine. Happily revived were he and his cock by the girl's nearness.

"Keep hold of the mirror," he instructed. Bringing his arms around her, he momentarily rested his hands upon her thighs. Meeting with no objection, his fingers gathered the fabric of her nightgown and drew up the hem with a series of small tugs until the bunched fabric reached midthigh. His hands slid down her now bared limbs, fingers splaying over the soft ovals of her knees. He breathed into her hair. "Open your legs."

Feeling her muscles relent, his fingertips gently prompted the outward rotation of her thighs. When her legs collided with the bumpers of the upholstered arms, his hands curled around the outside of her knees and scooped them up, lifting them on top of the armrests. With the extreme spread of her legs, her nightgown rose to her hips and her bottom shifted against his burgeoning cockstand.

"Well sir, you certainly don't believe in subtlety, do you?"

"Not when it comes to the science of anatomy," he replied solemnly. Looking down over her shoulder, he admired what he had not fully appreciated before --- the beauty of her lithe limbs. The exaggerated position highlighted the smooth flesh and sprightly muscles shaped by her walking, cycling, skating --- and evidently climbing up and down the drainpipe to the mansion's roof. "Where's the mirror?"

Ondine's hands lifted from her chest where she had been clasping it; the dancing flames were momentarily reflected in the glass.

"Hold it so I can show you what I did."

Shaking her head as if in disbelief, she lowered the mirror between her open thighs, resting its metal rim on his legs. They both gazed at the reflection of her spread cunny bathed in firelight.

Anders swallowed. Only a half-hour earlier, his lips had been glued to her blushing plaything, but now the erotic view was most piquantly enhanced knowing the girl was simultaneously looking at her own genitals. His fingers skimmed up her pale, stretched thighs, halting when they reached the pink skin at the apex.

He cleared his throat. "I --- erm --- concentrated licking where I supposed it would be most sensitive." His index finger traced along the edges and inner surfaces of the nymphae. "Here."

She quivered on his lap and said, "Labia minora."

The pad of his finger stroked through the still moist crevice. "Here."

"Vestibule."

His fingertip wiggled against the innocent barrier. "Here." His voice grew husky.

"Hymen," she murmured.

With each anatomic term slipping from her lips, another hot aliquot of blood surged into his organ, inflating it further yet in his drawers. He could not help pressing his cheek against her hair as he said, "Here," and at last placed his finger upon her jewel. Her body trembled atop him.

"That spot ---" she whispered.

"Yes."

"What - what is that? I couldn't find it in the Gray's Anatomy plate."

"Your brother's anatomy textbook?"

She nodded.

"It must not be the latest edition. The clitoris has only recently been depicted in anatomic illustrations."

"The what? What is its name?"

"Clitoris --- glans clitoridis in Latin."

"It's normal?"

"Absolutely." His fingertip grazed over the hood, eliciting a shiver from her.

"Ooh ... I pray so! When I first compared myself to the diagram, I was convinced I was malformed." She re-gripped the handle of the mirror as she spoke, inadvertently tilting it away from the titillating tableau. "The wicked sensations associated with it only fortified my belief in my shamefulness."

Anders fought a flare of anger at society's never-ending campaign of sexual repression and medicine's too often misinformed support of it. "There's nothing at all shameful about it --- nor any other part of your perfectly lovely --- erm --- normal anatomy," he said. "In my opinion, society, the church, and even science have conspired to cause inordinate shame over natural sensations, especially in females."

Ondine's head shifted slightly against his. He wanted to wrap the anxious girl in his arms and reassure her she was not a wicked creature --- but constrained to the role of fellow scientist in this endeavor, he resorted to the only logical remaining act --- which was to rub her darling little clitoris. Her body tensed in his lap, and she angled the mirror more favorably.

Even as they both stared at the reflection of his fingertip stroking her, he continued his animated commentary. "The clitoris hasn't previously been depicted in certain texts thanks to the tyranny of one school of thought in medicine which has for centuries systematically derided the role of the clitoris and denied the existence of female pleasure."

"Is that so?" There was a hint of strain in her voice.

"Recently, the Hippocratic school of thought has made progress in inseminating an opposing view. They consider ---"

"Pardon the interruption, Mr. Røkke --- did you just say 'inseminating'?"

Anders gulped and his tickling finger halted. "I --- erm --- I meant to say 'disseminating' of course. I beg your pardon, Mrs. Van der Veen."

"Wherever is your mind, sir?" Ondine adjusted the hand mirror upwards to reveal his reddened face next to hers --- her teasing eyes met his in the reflection. A detectable flush on her own cheeks bespoke a like agitation on her part. "Now that you've clarified that point, pray continue."

He laughed ruefully. "I was about to say the Hippocratic school considers the clitoris the homologue of the penis. Look ---" He delicately drew back on the hood, exposing the shy bud underneath. "This skin is like the prepuce or foreskin on the penis, and inside it is the glans --- analogous to the glans penis."

"Yes, I see the similarity." But her formal tone was belied by her squirming bottom.

"By analogy then, the Hippocratic anatomists propose it has a similar role in pleasure." He caressed the very edge of the hood opening. "Alas, these anatomical theories are limited by the fact that they have all been proposed by men. I would be most curious to know your opinion of the matter." His large finger circled around and around the growing nib.

Was the girl's temple pressing harder against his cheek?

"I ... ahh ... I believe the Hippocratic school of thought has some ... merit," she murmured unsteadily.

They both watched the reflection. It was an entrancing sight --- the telltale transformation of her aroused pudendum from a pale pink to a libidinous dewy rose.

"You seem to have made quite ... a detailed study of the subject, sir."

"Haven't you heard Detective Donnelly's report? I am a very studious young man." The pad of his fingertip tested the increasing turgor of her tidbit and glistening lips.

Her body writhed deliciously upon the column in his laboring drawers. Turning his head momentarily from the mirror towards the sound of her quickened breaths, Anders observed her parted lips and a comely ear amidst her tumbled locks of hair --- and he had to squelch a sudden urge to put his mouth upon her.

"Have other ... umm ... women been the beneficiaries of your studies?"

"Not recently," he said in a strained voice.

Ondine's free hand appeared in the mirror --- all at once her extended forefinger rested upon his. What a strange, rousing vision --- her slim digit, half the size of his, riding atop his stroking finger. Gaze fixed upon the reflection, he slid his hand out from under hers, yielding the precious territory to her.

In awe, he watched her tentatively frig her pretty little quimmy while the fire played over her tensing thigh muscles. As he gaped, a shimmering bead of ambrosia welled from the hidden hole in her maidenhead and slowly stretched down towards her anus.

"Herregud!" he groaned aloud, in spite of himself.

"Oh no!" she whispered. "Is that ---"

"Beautiful," he sighed. "Erm, I mean, normal. It's quite normal." He shifted her on his lap to appease his tensely trapped stiffstander.

She wiggled against it. "Umm --- Mr. Røkke --- does that mean you've 'recovered your forces'?"

"Very much so. Do you ... wish to proceed with the next act?"

She nodded.

His pulse leapt. At once, his hands scooped her legs off the armrests and brought them together. Sliding his arms under her back and knees, he rose to his feet.

Her one hand still gripping the mirror, Ondine's free arm slipped around his neck. "Well, this is fine service indeed," she joked, her bare feet waving in the air.

As he carried her across the room, the girl's face was initially rotated towards the bed --- but after a moment, her head turned back, and her gaze lifted to his. He was hypnotized --- was there a current of requited sentiment in those shining greenish irises? Perhaps a faint, ephemeral thread? Or was it only his wistful imagination?

Then he stopped next to the grand canopied bed, and her unreadable eyes again shifted away, now down to the mattress. "Do we need something to guard the linens?" she asked in a matter-of-fact tone.

His bounding thoughts were abruptly checked by the calm reminder of logistics. Of course --- no evidence could they leave of the illicit tryst. "Yes, a good thought."

"Would a towel suffice?" Her chin motioned towards the adjoining bathroom.

Placing her on the edge of the bed, he hastened to retrieve one, the tentpole in his drawers jerking with his movements. "Are you certain you want to sacrifice this? It seems like a very costly item."

Ondine shrugged. "I haven't anything else suitable here. I shall attempt to wash it --- after. And if unsuccessful, I'll use it for a rag in my painting studio."

After --- he didn't want to think about after. Awkward air condensed between them as they regarded each other --- she sitting on the edge of the bed, he standing before her. The motion of her long eyelashes telegraphed the direction of her gaze --- over his bare chest and downwards to his jutting undergarment.

There then ensued a spate of activity --- laying out the towel at the mattress edge, centering her bottom upon it, and removing nightgown and drawers --- the brisk, almost clinical preparations distracting from the enormity of the venture upon which they were embarking.

What an opportune time this would have instead been for kisses and impassioned embraces, Anders thought wryly. But this was scarcely the time for wishful thinking --- before him on the bed sat a naked girl, hugging her bent knees, expectant eyes looking up at him. Would he rather NOT fuck her? Good God, not a chance! Well then, rasshøl --- stop over-thinking the matter and get to it!

He stepped closer. "Lie back," he muttered.

Ondine complied, big hazel eyes alertly fixed to his --- but her bent knees yet remained raised and pressed together. She gasped when he seized her hips, legs flailing agape as he slid her bottom to the edge of the mattress. Then he clasped her knees and pushed them up and apart. In awe, he gazed down at Venus' toy laid bare before his electrified cockstand.

Damn!

The magic pink wishbone of her nymphae and clitoris were flaunted by their roused turgor --- the little lips, like the leaves of a rare succulent plant, standing coyly open to reveal her virtue beautifully blurred with beckoning nectar. Yearn no more, darling cunny, here is a bone such as you wish for! He pushed his cock down to the mark. Atop the high mattress, Ondine was well positioned, but being a few inches taller than the ghost, he had to brace his legs apart to perfect the alignment.

It was extraordinary --- Nature had triumphed over all the admonitions and condemnations of society --- for here they were, their naked male and female parts on the brink of completing her carnal commission!

As his third eye confronted its target from a mere finger's breadth away, Anders hesitated in a moment of heady calculation. He gazed down at the petite girl half his size --- at the dainty field of engagement between her legs. Christ! His bulbous cockhead almost spanned her vulva from thigh to thigh! Was this the foolhardiest enterprise ever contemplated?!

But she had managed to take Peter's good-sized tool. His own surpassing width was not so exorbitantly larger than the ghost's. Yes, all care would be essential --- he decried hurting her. Placing his splayed fingers upon her lower belly, his large thumb centered itself upon the swollen ridge of her jewel --- she jumped. With her silky frill grazing his palm, he rubbed her in small circles.

In short order, he was rewarded with a visible squeeze of her introitus --- offering up another glossy girl pearl from the guardian gate. Ya, get to it! Quickly, he smeared a palmful of spittle over his overheated weapon. "Mrs. Van der Veen, I'm sorry, the next part will likely hurt," he mumbled.